


Feeling at home

by livingforazirowley



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's Bookshop, Cute, Ficlet, M/M, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26877439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingforazirowley/pseuds/livingforazirowley
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley are spending a nice evening at Aziraphale's library. They talk and make some plans for the future.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	Feeling at home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ineffablepotato](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ineffablepotato).



> This is a birthday present for @ineffablepotato, one of the first friends I made in this wonderful fandom. You're the best potato there is, and potatoes are great to begin with! Very happy (late) birthday to you <3

The rhythmic tapping of the rain on the windows and the crackling fire in the chimney were lullabying Crowley to sleep. He shook his head, trying to stay awake.

“I hope you realise I wouldn’t mind if you fell asleep on my couch, Crowley,” Aziraphale said. He was sitting on the armchair in front of Crowley, wearing his tiny spectacles and reading a book. The angel was smiling but he hadn’t teared his eyes off the pages.

Crowley groaned. “I know, I know…” And yet, he didn’t want to fall asleep. “I’ll have some wine instead,” he said, forcing himself to get up. “What’d you got? Anything you’re in the mood for?”

“Anything you like, dear. Suit yourself,” Aziraphale replied. “And suit me, while you’re at it. I’m feeling a bit thirsty.” The angel closed the book and set it aside without marking the page he was at. After all, the next time he would open it, he would do it aimlessly and yet by the right page.

Aziraphale watched Crowley go through his wine cabinet. The demon was reading the labels under his breath and making all kinds of sounds at them - impressed, disgusted, surprised, pleased -. He truly was a beautiful creature.

Eventually, Crowley settled for one of the bottles, opened it with a snap of his fingers and poured to glasses.

“Excellent choice, dear, as always,” Aziraphale said right after having a first sip. Crowley raised his glass at that.

This was a ritual they had performed countless times, each one of them making Aziraphale think. Think about how natural it was for them to be in the same room. Think about how they complemented each other. Think about their friendship and their agreement. About how he was the only person with whom he felt at ease. And, ultimately, think about how it would be like to live together.

The rain was still tapping rhythmically on the windows and the fire was still crackling in the chimney. But Crowley was no longer falling asleep.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, interrupting a rant about how stupid motorcycles were, considering that you sat on them like you sat on horses. The demon looked back at him, serpentine eyes wide open and mouth agape, waiting for Aziraphale to continue. “Isn’t this…” the angel pointed at them and at the bookshop. “Doesn’t this feel normal?”

“Uh- I guess so,” Crowley replied, not getting where this was going. “We’ve been doing it for centuries now.”

“Well, yes, but…” Aziraphale tried once more. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… Well, we’ve known each other for millennia now. Then again, I’ve known Gabriel for millennia as well… but that’s not the point!” he said, running his hand over his face. “The point is, Crowley, that it sometimes feels like you live here with me. Don’t you think so?” Trying to hide, Aziraphale drank from his glass.

“I- Well, you… I mean, kind of?” Crowley said. Aziraphale could tell how uncomfortable the demon was becoming. “Except I don’t picture myself living here,” he said, looking at their surroundings.

“You don’t?” Aziraphale blurted. “Of course.”

“It’s not that I don’t see us living in the same place, don’t get me wrong,” Crowley rushed to say. “It’s this place. It reeks of Gabriel and that other bald guy. What is it with him? Sandalphone, isn’t it? He’s styleless,” he said. “Anyway, my point is - I’d enjoy living with you, yeah, only somewhere else. Maybe… the South Downs?”


End file.
